


We Are Still Good

by art3misthehuntress



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: And they sorta get it, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Related, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, It turned into a sad history of E&C, M/M, Mild Smut, Sharing a Bed, They deserve so much happiness, This was supposed to be a short fic, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/art3misthehuntress/pseuds/art3misthehuntress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On an episode of Raw, Christian is attacked by Triple H and the Shield. Edge cannot do anything to help his friend because of his neck injury, yet he takes it upon himself to make sure that Christian will come back stronger than ever. Naturally they end up in a hotel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Still Good

**Author's Note:**

> This only came to be because of this clip off Raw. It really fucked with my emotions.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYeEuPTv_YM&ab_channel=WWE

     “ _If I can’t hurt you, well, I don’t know, maybe I can hurt the ones you love._ ” The threat issued to him that night by Triple H bounced around in Edge’s head, shattering what half-assed composure he had managed to scrape up for Christian’s sake. His best friend was waiting patiently for the doctor to finish her evaluation, to make sure the Shield hadn’t done any lasting damage. Bumps and bruises would blossom blue and eventually heal, but Christian, like Edge himself, had already suffered his fair share of concussions stemming from their Indie days. Edge had been forced to relinquish his dream far earlier than he would have wanted (he hadn’t really expected his body to hold up for as long as it did, not when he lept off ten foot ladders on a weekly basis for most of his career) but Christian being forced to retire… there was a whole different sense of intangibility to that. He had to shake his head. Christian was tough; he’d come through this like a champion.

     The medical evaluator gingerly ran her fingers down Christian’s torso, feeling for any problem areas. She murmured an apology before pressing down slightly on a large bruise near Christian’s left pectoral. A momentary flash of pain crossed Christian’s face like a shadow, gone in an instant.

    “Feels fine.” he said, stretching his shoulder for emphasis. Running a hand through his short hair out of habit, Edge caught Christian’s eye. They had been best friend’s since the sixth grade and hadn’t been able to convincingly lie to the other since at least the seventh. Dropping his gaze to the examination room’s floor, Christian began twisting at his wristwrap.

     “Alright, then.” The doctor smiled, jotting a few quick sentences on a pad of paper. “I just have to check the results of a few x-rays. I wouldn’t worry though, the damage looks to be worse than it actually is.”

     Christian nodded in acknowledgement, plastering a smile on his face. “Thank you, doc.”

     “You’re welcome. It should only be a few minutes.” She threw a quick glance before exiting at Edge, who had taken up pacing the length of the room.

     The slam of the door made him stop and take a deep breath, reminding himself that Christian was not the one with the broken neck, the one who could no longer step into the ring... His best friend would recover in a few months and return to rain holy hell down on the Shield and that son-of-a-bitch Triple H.

     Edge pulled Christian into a careful hug, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead and making sure to avoid accidentally touching the angry purple blotches littering his skin.

     His voice didn’t come out as steadily as he would have liked. “I’m so sorry, Christian. If I wouldn’t have provoked Hunter in the ring…”

     “He would have had the Shield attack me anyway. It’s no secret they’re so far up Triple H’s ass they can see out the other side. Ambrose has had his eye on me for awhile, this was just a matter of time. There’s nothing you could have done.”

     “ _There was nothing you could have done._ ” How true that was. It had been Christian who had dragged Edge kicking and screaming from a very dark place after he realized he’d have to retire from wrestling. Christian was the one who reassured him that he had, in fact, lived his career, his entire _life_ , strictly on _his terms_. It was Christian who promised him that he’d always have his back, no matter how severe Edge’s injury had turned out, because they had had each others’ backs since primary school. And now, when Christian had needed his help, Edge had been stuck on the sidelines, not even in shape to take on a single member of the Shield let alone all three.

     Christian took Edge’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I know what you’re thinking, Edge. I know when you start to feel sorry for yourself. We’ve been through much worse together and come out swinging.”

     Ah, yes. The days of E&C, Edge and Christian. Their names were as inseparable as the two of them actually had been back then. How many tag team championships had they won? Six or seven sounded about right. Edge smiled, lost in the memory. The two of them had had the world at their feet and gold in their hands, just daring the Hardy Boyz or Dudleyz attempt to take it. And it _had_ been ripped from their fingers several times by both teams, often leaving Edge and Christian bloodied and broken. But there was nothing that could get them higher than recapturing the prize and proving that they were second to none.

     Then… things had took a turn. Christian had begun to show small signs of desiring to strike out on his own, an unnerving realization that he might be left behind causing Edge to squash any thoughts of that possibly happening.

     Flash forward to the 2001 King of the Ring tournament. They would have to compete separately, bracket style, for the honor of winning the prestigious trophy and the company’s favor that came with it.

     Christian had been doing well, likely about to win his match, when Shane McMahon came out from backstage, distracting Christian and giving his opponent the win.

     Looking back on it now, perhaps winning it for himself hadn’t been the best decision Edge could have made for their relationship. They were both young, stupid, and very selfish. Perhaps nothing had changed. Then Edge had won the Intercontinental title from Lance Storm, and Christian had become even more distant, more defiant, yet nothing could have shocked Edge more than when Christian had hit him with a chair during their… _his_ in-ring celebration, throwing more than fifteen years of friendship and a handful of years of more than that away like it meant nothing, less than nothing. The hazy image of Christian screaming in his face, raising that stupid trophy above his head still burned in Edge’s mind.

     “What are you thinking about?”

     Edge startled out of his retrospection. “How much I want to see you beat Triple H's face in.” he recovered cleanly.

     Christian grinned. “That makes two of us, buddy. Guess I should have made some more friends during the past few years, huh?”

     “Yeah.” Edge rubbed his neck, wincing slightly. A sharp bark of laughter made him jump.

     “Jesus.” Christian’s eyes crinkled up whenever he smiled. “Look how old you are.”

     “I’m not old!” exclaimed Edge.

     Christian gestured at his friend. “You’re older than I am.”

     Edge stared at him. “Christian, you’re younger _by a month_.”

     “Yeah, exactly. Younger. And more handsome.”

     “Hardly.” Edge muttered under his breath.

     “Well, you didn’t seem to have a problem with my appearance last week.” The left side of Christian’s mouth curled up in a devilish smirk. Edge felt his face heat up. He ran his thumb down Christian’s cheek, stopping at a recently acquired shallow cut that crossed his lips, a thin smear of blood still visible from where he had taken a bad hit. Which member of the Shield had done that? _It reminded him of… No Mercy? No, before that, Unforgiven, fourteen years ago._

     There had been no attempt at reconciliation by either of them after Christian had betrayed him. If Christian had said he was sorry, would Edge have even forgiven him? He doubted it. How fitting that they would clash at so aptly a named event over the Intercontinental title, yet Edge doubted that was even what the other man was after at that point. Christian was stepping out on his own. Neither of them pulled any punches that night in Pittsburgh. Jealousy, anger, regret, who knew what either of them was thinking. Edge had felt like he couldn’t even read his former-friend anymore. Betrayal and rage ran in his veins, adrenaline coursed through his body. Sweat-slicked skin and before long the metallic taste of blood on his tongue brought him back to reality, for everything was red.

     They had gotten far on pure talent together but were never afraid to play dirty for the win. That meant when Christian had cheap shotted him with a chair for the victory, Edge hadn’t been surprised. Firmly convinced that the rift between them was far too large to mend at that point, but sadly not surprised. The two of them left Pittsburgh in each other’s blood, but never had they been farther apart than at that moment.

     Edge got the title back soon after that night, losing the belt quickly after that and continuing to ride his newfound cycle of ambition to sometimes successful, sometimes failed endeavors. It would take a few painful years for them to speak to each other more than what was just called for between coworkers.

    Christian was looking at him strangely. “Sorry.” Edge muttered. “Spaced out.”

     Shaking his head, Christian sighed quietly. “I’m the one who left you, you’re not the one who left me. Christ, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”

     The evaluation room suddenly seemed a lot more confined than it originally did.

     Edge shifted uncomfortably. “Did I really deserve it?”

     “What? No, I- I can’t believe we’re doing this right now of all times.” Christian paused before continuing slowly. “You were always so… you. Bright, if that makes any sense, like the sun. Everybody knew that you’d do well in the business. You were hired first and were just so charismatic, I knew they’d eventually mold you into a legend. And I was just so proud, so happy that my _best friend_ was getting the credit he deserved. Eventually, I got addicted to it all, the fans the rush of being on top. Nothing could touch us. Then, I think I realized that as long as it was Edge and Christian, we’d never become greater than that; both of us would always be held back. I wanted to be more than just your sidekick, Edge. You would no longer have to be tied to me, and the way I ended things ensured that you wouldn't want me back, that I _couldn’t_ come back. In a twisted sort of way, I did it for you too.”

     A knock on the door signalled the return of the doctor. She folded the top sheet over on her clipboard and cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Luckily, nothing is broken. Unfortunately, I can't clear you to perform for at least another three or four months, maybe more. I'm still worried about that last concussion.”

     Nodding his head, Christian stood up and shook her hand. “Thank you very much, ma’am.”

     She smiled warmly. “Of course. You can pick up these painkillers,” she ripped off a piece of paper from her little prescription booklet. “whenever is the most convenient, but I will need to check up on you in a few weeks to make sure everything is healing up okay.”

     The two blonds nodded gratefully and left the examination room.

     “I can drive you back to the hotel.” Edge doubted his friend was in any shape to get behind the wheel after that night’s beatdown. Besides, they were going to the same place. Most of the roster was required to stay in the one hotel, and since Edge was technically being paid for that segment of The Cutting Edge, that included him for at least the night.

     “Okay.” said Christian, seemingly too tired to put up a fight. They walked side-by-side to where the company SUVs were parked. The two of them used to travel to a new venue together every week, sometimes more, although their trips were always eventful to say the least. Most of the time whoever was in the passenger seat would attempt to catch a few hours of sleep before they'd be wrestling in front of a different crowd that night. In what shape the sleeper would arrive; however, depended largely on the mercy of the driver, pranks ranging from sending the entire locker room pictures of them drooling onto the headrest to having to desperately try to remove a drawn-on sharpie mustache in some venue’s bathroom an hour before the show started.

     One time in particular, Edge had woken up to rosy cheeks, and not the kind that came naturally with exertion. His heart clenched, remembering how the pink powder had stubbornly refused to be wiped off until Christian, giggling the entire time like a schoolgirl, had found some makeup removing wipes in the women’s locker rooms.

     “Don’t be mad, you looked pretty.” Christian had chortled, managing to outrun an angry Edge to their dressing rooms. The next hour had been filled with light teasing, moaning, and full-on panting, leaving the both of them red-faced when they had finally emerged, no makeup needed.

     Christian glanced at Edge from the passenger seat. “Reminds me of old times.” he murmured, shifting so his leather jacket rubbed against the upholstery.

     Edge gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning pale. “Yeah.” Fat raindrops ran down the windshield in rivulets. They sat in silence, but not the uncomfortable kind, until Edge pulled into the hotel and removed the keys from the ignition, stepping out into the rain and shepherding Christian ahead of him. It wasn’t a classy place, but they had definitely stayed in worse. Neon signs flickered in the dark in time to distant lightning flashes. A storm swirled angrily outside, sending fallen leaves scraping against pavement.

     Christian pulled out a key, an honest-to-goodness brass key, and spent a few moments fiddling with the door’s lock, grunting when there was an audible ‘click’. The hotel room had a unmade, queen-size bed, bathed in artificial lighting which gave the entire atmosphere a sickly feel to it. The wallpaper, a faded floral pattern, seemed determined to peel away from its foundation; several scraps dusted the carpeted, stained floor. Tights and cut-off shirts were strewn about as if they had been simply removed and discarded without a second thought after walking through the front door.

     “I swear it usually looks better than this.” Christian stumbled towards the bed, discarding his t-shirt on the way. Edge shook his head.

     “If it makes you feel better, keep saying that.” A bunched up sweaty t-shirt hit him smack in the face resulting in an undignified “umph.”

     The bedframe let out a loud squeak as Christian collapsed upon it. “I need a shower. And sleep. And it fucking hurts to move. Sleep sounds good. Gonna sleep.”

     Taking that as his cue to leave, Edge turned out the lights and was about to reach the door when he heard Christian from behind him.

     “You can stay if you want.” His voice was muffled from the pillows. Hesitating briefly, Edge kicked off his shoes and slipped into bed, otherwise fully clothed. A brief moment of awkwardness registered in his mind; he just didn’t know what to do with his _arms_ … He scooted forward a bit, guiding Christian’s head to his chest and reaching around so he could rub soothing circles onto his back, murmuring a soft apology when the other man flinched.

     A sudden rush of affection coupled with a fresh wave of panic washed over Edge. It was so easy to fall back into this old pattern when things had been so good. Best friends who fucked on occasions were generally not an ideal relationship in most people’s eyes, yet both of them made it work as well as could be expected.

     Before he knew it, Edge felt the even, gentle rise and fall of Christian breathing. The pounding of the rain on the roof slowly lulled him into a deep sleep, curled around the other man’s resting form.

* * *

 

     Edge woke slowly to scattered rays of sunshine. He and Christian were both early risers, a symptom of several years of training before the sun was up followed by a car ride to that night’s show.

     “Good morning.” Christian yawned, green eyes fluttering open. “I’ve got to be honest, this is one of the nicer things I've woken up to lately.”

     “Hey. How do you feel?” Edge asked.

     “Like… I don't know, like I've been run over?” Christian folded his arms behind his head, grinning. “But you're still in my bed, so I'm counting this as a win.”

    _Smug bastard_. He would swear later it was only for shock value when Edge smashed their lips together, eliciting a startled yelp from Christian that quickly melted into a contented sigh.

     “Want to take your mind off things.” Edge said. _Want you to be happy. Want you to never leave me again._

He reached down, rubbing at Christian’s crotch and smirked when the other man rocked into his touch, groaning. He let a few noises escape himself when Christian bit down on his lip, the taste of metal heavy on his tongue.

      _Thank God for tights_ , Edge thought, helping Christian roll down the fabric that clung to _all_ the right places. Edge wanted to touch everything at once, not content with simply making this a pleasurable experience. He wanted to light Christian on fire and watch him burn with need. Need for him alone. Edge ran his hands over Christian’s abs, digging his fingers into his hips and grabbing the back of his head so they could kiss deeper.

     Edge freed Christian’s cock from his underwear and gave it a series of quick pumps, relishing in the string of curses mouthed into his neck. He knew how to get Christian teetering on the brink. He knew from years of on-and-off again relationships and casual flings, thinking that things would work out eventually yet always being disappointed. Fucking _years_ of it.

     Edge snarled, licking at the pulse point on Christian’s neck, and delighting in hearing him whine. He swiped at the pre-come leaking from Christian’s cock to relieve a bit of the pressure, slowly increasing his strokes and throwing in a cruel twist at the head every so often. Everything was hot and sticky, too much and not enough.

     It all began to reach the breaking point too quickly. Edge could see the tightening of Christian’s stomach; he could feel the twitching of his cock under his fingers. There was nothing more he wanted than to see the other man lose it, completely wrecked and crashing back down to Earth like a fallen angel.

     Christian was panting. “I’m gonna-”

     “It’s okay. Let go.” Edge watched with awe as the tension snapped like a wire, and suddenly Christian was coming messily into his hand, hips stuttering, head thrown back into a moan. He had forgotten how beautiful the sight was. It had only been a week since they had last messed around and he had forgotten.

     Afterwards, the heady silence was punctuated only by heavy breathing and the rapid thudding of both their pulses.

     “So. That happened.” Christian said softly. He was tangled in sheets and Edge’s legs, looking utterly debauched.

     “So it did.” Edge agreed. There was come on his leather jacket and jeans, and he was painfully hard.

     “This could be a regular thing. I certainly won’t be jumping ship to TNA again, not after last time. It’s not like I have many years left of doing this anyway.” Christian reached down and grabbed Edge’s hand with slippery fingers. “ _I_ want to make this work. Believe it or not, I miss you.”

     Fuck, if they were still doing whatever the hell it was they’d been doing since performing in front of fifty-person crowds in Canada, than that should say something, shouldn’t it? Through all the hardships, battles, and triumphs, they’d always be E&C. Edge nodded causing Christian to look relieved.

     “Come on.” He rolled out of bed, motioning for Edge to do the same. “I need a shower, and you still are wearing far too many clothes. Plus, I really want suck you off right now.”

Edge sucked in a breath.

_They could definitely make this work._


End file.
